alien shapes that would be impossible in the summer.
On colder, calmer days, the water pushed thousands of tiny icebergs towards the shore. They formed a slushy grey band around the bay that only got deeper and thicker and whiter while I was there.
Without all the green, the birch trees stand out in the woods. It's striking, the kind of scene that a smarter woman would've taken a black-and-white photograph of.
Everything is quiet. The myriad chirps and rustles and howls that mark warmer months are silenced under a thin blanket of snow.
You can almost feel nature taking a deep breath in preparation for what's to come - digging in its heels for another Michigan winter.